


I don't do boyfriends, except you

by Ltwillbush



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:49:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4985338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltwillbush/pseuds/Ltwillbush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver, it turns out, is not HIV positive - but he is very sick, and it's all going downhill for Connor.</p><p>Michaela just thinks they're both idiots, to be honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't do boyfriends, except you

“Finally done?” Laurel snapped as Connor walked back into the main room, clutching his phone. “Maybe we can focus now?”

“I…” He let out a shaky breath, closed his eyes for a moment and tried to swallow back his nausea. “I-I… I need to go.”

“We have court in eighteen hours! You need to be here!” Michaela looked up from the mess of papers she was sitting in, then frowned as she saw the strain on his face. “Connor? What’s wrong?”

“Oliver just called-”

“Great, you can have sex later.” Asher muttered. “So what, he called?”

“We- we went for, uh, sexual health checks. We just got the results through.”

“How fabulous for you-”

Connor made a tiny noise that Michaela would have sworn was a sob, where this not Connor. “He… he…”

“Does he have something? Do you have something?” She stood up, frowning, and Connor nodded slightly. “HIV?”

“Worse.”

“…is he pregnant?” Laurel asked, raising an eyebrow, and this time Connor did sob.

“He has cancer.”

Michaela moved forward, pulling the dark-haired man into a hug and rubbing his back as he started to cry against her shoulder. “Connor, I…”

“Mr Walsh?” Professor Keating walked in and regarded them. “Is something wrong?”

“He’s had some very bad news.” Wes supplied, and the professor considered them for a moment.

“Do you need to leave?”

“I think so.” Michaela spoke for him, still rubbing his back. “Is it alright if I drive him home? I’ll come right back.”

To everyone’s surprise, Annalise nodded. “Make sure he gets there safely - and Mr Walsh? If you need to miss tomorrow, I think I can make an exception to the rule about being fired just this once.”

Connor nodded, rubbing a hand over his eyes, and reached for his back. “Thank you, I- I just…”

“Go. You can’t work if you’re distracted.” She left, and Michaela took out her keys.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” She led him out to her car, holding the door open until he was seated. “It’s… it’s gonna be okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He looked at her, and she saw fear in his eyes. “Even if - even _when_ he beats this, it’s always going to be there, and I- I don’t think I can…”

“You can.” She squeezed his hand before starting the car. “You know how I know? You said we, not he. A lot of people would run away.”

He looked offended at that, and she quickly soothed him. “I know you wouldn’t, Connor. You used to say you didn’t do boyfriends, and I know full well you’re smitten with him - I know you wouldn’t leave him over this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“The others… I don’t think they’d believe that. They think I just - sleep around. But Ollie - he’s so much more than that, Mic, I can’t-” He broke off, breathing unsteady, and she bit her lip. Until recently, she’d thought the same - that Connor would sleep with anyone to get the job done - but now, she could see that he really cared.

Luckily, it didn’t take too long to reach the apartment building, and she walked him up, watching as he fumbled for the key he’d only recently got, letting himself in and promptly running to the sofa where a slightly older man - presumably Oliver - sat, crying quietly.

Michaela hovered by the door, watching as Connor gathered Oliver close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, murmuring words of comfort. Michaela waited for a moment, before slipping off, careful to close the door behind her.

The moment the door closed, Oliver’s cries increased in volume as he mumbled apologies into Connor’s rapidly dampening shoulder. Connor pulled him closer still, and pressed another kiss to his hair. “Ssh, it’s alright, it’s going to be okay. Ssh…”

“No, it’s not, it’s never-”

Connor silenced him with a kiss, practically pulling him into his lap despite the fact the other man was taller and didn’t really fit. “Ollie, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to fight this, and we’re going to win, you hear?”

“And I get it if you wanna leave, I know- wait, what?” He looked up, sniffling, and wiping his eyes just like Connor had earlier. The younger man pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere. Well, class. And probably work. But otherwise, not going anywhere.” He murmured. “I’m not going to run off ‘cos of this - you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and yeah, this is the worst, but I’m not gonna make you go through it by yourself. Hell, after the shit I’ve done to you, this is nothing.”

“You’re insane.” Oliver mumbled. “Utterly crazy.”

“Crazy for you?” Connor tried hopefully, and Oliver let out a watery giggle.

“Maybe. I love you, you know?”

“I love you too. Have you eaten?”

“No…” Oliver shook his head slightly. “I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll order in, then - pizza?”

“I guess…” Oliver shrugged, and Connor nuzzled his cheek.

“You have to eat, Ollipop.”

“…never call me that again.” The IT specialist grumbled, but nodded. “Alright, pizza’s fine.”

“Good. When’s your first appointment?”

“Tomorrow, ten a.m.”

“I’ll be there - I’ll call and say I won’t be in for court.”

“You don’t have to do that…”

“Maybe, but I want to.” He smiled, and rose. “I’ll go order the pizza, okay? No running off.”

“Bossy.” Oliver smiled, and sat up a bit. “Peppers on the pizza.”

“I can remember your order, you know. I remember whole books.”

“When’s my birthday?”

“…um?”

“You know this. You do.”

“February the… umm… seven…tenth?”

“Told you you knew it.” Oliver laughed and hugged him. “Even if you are a bit of an idiot and sleep with other people occasionally, I do love you, y’know?”

“That’s my line.” Connor swiped the pizza menu from the drawer, and grinned. “Maybe tomorrow, we could go for coffee after your appointment?”

“That’s… surprisingly normal coming from you.”

“Hey, I can be normal!”

“Really?”

“…occasionally.”

 

(Three months later)

 

Oliver groaned as the bed dipped, stirring him from sleep. Connor pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, expression concerned. “I really don’t want to go…”

“I’ll be fine.” He blinked slowly, struggling to sit up. “Just tired.”

“It’s the day after a treatment, you shouldn’t be alone…”

“You said you wouldn’t be long.” Oliver murmured. “Jus’ dropping off some stuff?”

“Pretty much.” _And picking something up, but you don’t know about that._ “I’ll be back really soon, and if you need me-”

“Call, I know. I’m not that sick, you know.”

Connor bit his lip, but smiled and nodded. “Course not. See you soon.”

He slipped out of the apartment and ran a hand over his face before making his way down to the car park where Michaela was waiting for him with a smile, though it faded when she saw the bags under his eyes. “Bad night?”

“Yeah. I- I really don’t wanna leave him alone, Mic…”

“He’ll be okay.” She handed Connor a take-out cup of coffee. “Drink up.”

“I-” He stopped, taking a sip instead, but she just stared at him pointedly. “I just - just recently it… it doesn’t seem that way.”

“Connor… why didn’t you say something?” She pulled him into a hug, and he clung to her for a moment.

“I don’t - if I say it, it makes it real. And I don’t want it to be real.”

“Oh, Connor…” she rubbed his back gently. “You still want to do this?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course. I might cry a bit, though.”

“I won’t tell.” She hopped into the car, and he followed suit with a damp smile.

“You better not.”

 

Two hours later, Connor arrived back at the apartment with a large box in his arms. He opened the door and tiptoed in, setting the box on the table before peeking into the bedroom.

Oliver looked better - he was sat up, reading, and he smiled when Connor slipped in. “How was it?”

“Huh?”

“Seeing Annalise?”

“Oh, uh, great. Yeah, great.”

“Are you alright? You seem a bit - nervous.” Oliver frowned. “Did the hospital call or something?”

“No, nothing like that - I, um, picked a couple of things up. While I was out.”

“Like…?”

“Um, I’ll, um, show you.” Connor backtracked out of the room and hauled the box back into his arms, walking in more slowly and setting in on the bed. Oliver raised an eyebrow.

“You bought a box?”

“Inside the box, you idiot. Open it?”

Oliver nodded, shuffling forward and lifting the flaps, gasping as a tiny kitten poked her head out and let out a startled mew. “You got us a cat?”

Connor blushed. “I thought you might, um, like someone to cuddle with if I have to go out?”

“….you bought a babysitter kitten, didn’t you?”

“…maybe. But look at her face!” Connor teased, reaching out to pat the kitten on the head. “She looks like you.”

“…if you say so.” Oliver shook his head. “So, I assume you got supplies too?”

“Of course. Well, Michaela did, but same thing.”

Oliver grinned, laying back and letting the kitten sit on his chest. “She’s cute.”

“See, like you.”

“…you’re not normally like this. What’s up?” Oliver frowned, and Connor blushed a bit.

“I… I got something else, too.”

“…is it a dog?”

“No! I - wait here.” He left the room, and picked up the other item, slowly padding back with it hidden behind his back. “I… I was going to... to wait, for this, but - god, I love you, and I wanted to make really sure you knew, and - I guess I thought this was the best way, and yeah maybe I freaked out a bit at that last appointment and sort of panicked and thought what if I wait too long and then I hated myself for doing that and Michaela called me an idiot and… and… um.”

“…” Oliver simply raised an eyebrow, and Connor cleared his throat, before dropping to one knee and opening the tiny velvet box he’d hidden, revealing a smooth wooden ring with an inlaid band of pearl.

“Will you - will you marry me?”

“Connor…” Oliver reached out slowly, hand shaking a little, and Connor moved one of his to cup it gently. “I- I don’t know what to say…”

“Yes is traditional.” Connor murmured, flushing. “I understand if - if you don’t want to, I just-”

“What if I die?” Oliver asked quietly, and Connor caught his breath, swallowing.

“Then I mourn my husband.”

“You really - you really want this? Even though I’m - I’m dying?”

“Don’t say that.” Connor’s grip on the box tightened a little. “I just-”

“I can’t, Connor.” Oliver gave him a small smile. “I just… can’t.”

Connor managed to maintain a neutral expression, nodding and closing the box. “I’ll just - go put this away.”

He slipped out and sank into a seat at the dining table, resting his head against his hands with a sniff, before pulling out his phone to text Michaela a simple message - ‘He said no.’

He put the ring in his jacket pocket to return, and walked back into the bedroom. “Want to watch a movie?”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine.” Connor smiled for him. “You can pick the movie - just nothing too sad, alright?”

“Alright.” Oliver slid out of the bed slowly, and walked over to the DVDs. Connor regarded him, mouth a thin line, before forcing himself to smile again as his boyfriend returned with a case. “This one?”

“Okay.” _Great, a movie with a happy couple._ “I’ll get some snacks, you need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Connor just nodded and sat down, slipping his arm around Oliver and trying not to think about how much weight he’d lost. “I love you.”

“Mmhmm.” Oliver leaned in to watch the movie, and Connor glanced away to hide the way he had to blink away tears at the thought he’d pushed Oliver away, rather than drawing him closer as he’d wanted.

 

“What are you going to do?” Michaela asked quietly as they walked up to the office, arms full of files. Connor just shrugged.

“What can I do? Leave him? I couldn’t - I love him, I just… I couldn’t. So I stay.”

“But you’re miserable.”

“I’m fine. It was a stupid idea anyway.” He yanked the door open and stepped inside, looking over. “Don’t tell the others. It’s none of their business.”

“Connor…”

“I get enough shit for missing stuff for appointments. I don’t need to give them more ammunition.” Connor gave her an exhausted smile. “I love him, Michaela.”

 

(Three months later)

 

Connor slumped onto the bathroom floor, running a hand through his hair. There was no gel left to make his fingers catch, not after days of staying at the hospital with Oliver. Now, though, he was in surgery and the nurse had insisted Connor go home and change.

Slowly, he picked up the knife he’d brought with him from the kitchen, running it, feather-light, across the pale skin of the inside of his wrist. He’d give anything to take the pain Oliver was surely feeling - how could you not feel pain when you were so sick - and take it on himself, just to give the man he loved a break, even if just for a few minutes.

He set the knife down and undid the top few buttons of his shirt, drawing out the slender chain he’d worn for the past three months. The ring that hung on it was warm from resting against his skin, yet no one knew it was there - especially not Oliver. He ran a finger over the ring, then buttoned his shirt again, hiding it from sight. He’d not been able to bear the thought of returning it - the look on the saleswoman’s face - and just recently, he’d fallen into a habit of pretending the ring had been given to him, not the other way around. That way, being away from Oliver didn’t terrify him quite so much.

He jumped as his phone buzzed with a text, and he picked it up with a shaking hand, looking at the screen. Michaela, asking how Oliver was. He hesitated, before setting the phone down in favour of the knife.

This time, the touch wasn’t so light, and he let out a pained hiss before swapping hands, blinking back tears.

He didn’t know how long passed before this phone rang and he jumped, dropping the blade and fumbling for it. “Hello?”

“Connor, how did it go?” Michaela. He swallowed.

“He’s… still in surgery…”

“Where are you?”

“Home… came to change…”

“I’ll come over-”

“No!”

“Connor? What’s wrong?”

“I… tell Oliver - tell him I…”

“Connor, what’s going on?”

“Hurts, ‘chaela.” He mumbled. “Hurts so much.”

“I’m on my way, Connor, I’ll be there soon - it’s going to be okay, Connor.” She sounded panicked, and he blinked, exhausted, before slowly setting the phone down and staring at his wrists, horror at what he’d done rising in his chest like the swirling panic that had been a constant in his life for the last three months, or for longer, if he was truthful. He swallowed hard, staring at the phone for a minute, running one finger over the place where the ring hung, hidden, and gasping out a sob as he left a shocking, scarlet stain on the white shirt - Oliver’s white shirt, worn to provide comfort when the man he loved was away for him. And what for - it had done him no good in the end. He laughed bitterly, slumping.

 

He opened his eyes, and blinked as the bright light stung. The ceiling was white and blank, and when he turned his head, the wall was too. He turned the other way and his breath caught as he saw Oliver, curled in his hospital bed, evidently sleeping peacefully. Michaela sat between them, a book open in her lap, but as soon as she saw Connor looking, she closed it. “Hey.”

“…shit.”

“You could say that.” She raised an eyebrow. “The surgery was a success, just so you know. Oliver woke up for a couple of minutes. Luckily, he was too out of it to notice I was me, not you.”

“Crap.”

“Indeed. Now, you gonna tell me what happened?”

“The doctor… he said there was a huge change he’d die, and I - I panicked, I just…”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Connor?” She touched his arm lightly, and he gave her a small smile.

“What could you have done?”

“I could have been there.”

“It wouldn’t have stopped it hurting.” He shrugged, and winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, moving’s gonna hurt.” She batted him lightly on the nose. “You really love him, huh?”

“Of course I do.” Connor replied simply, and then they both looked over as they heard Oliver shifting.

“Connor…? Why’re you in a bed…?”

“Um.” Connor again tried to sit up, just about succeeding this time, and gave his boyfriend a smile. “I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” Oliver insisted. Michaela glared at Connor.

“Connor, you need to tell him.”

“I…” Connor bit his lip, and carefully climbed out of the bed, plodding over to sit on the edge of Oliver’s bed, revealing his bandaged arms. Oliver blinked, before giving him a gentle tug until the brunet laid down beside him.

“You do know we have a counsellor, right?” Oliver mumbled, curling into him with a sleepy sound. “For specifically this sort of thing?”

“Oh…” Connor blushed a little, and Oliver leaned his head against his shoulder, before frowning and tugging the chain out from beneath the hospital gown Connor wore.

“What’s thi- the ring?”

“Um.” Connor blushed darker. “I just… Um.”

“I’m sorry.” Oliver sounded tired, but truthful, and Connor blinked.

“What for?”

“Saying no. I - I’d love to marry you, I just - I didn’t want you hurting, you know, and I thought that it’d help…”

“In what world would that help?” Michaela interrupted. “Jesus Christ, you two are both idiots. You’re perfect for each other, mind you. Just really stupid.”

“I thought I was dying.” Oliver pointed out grumpily, trying to drag Connor under the covers. “Now come hug me.”

“Okay, hang on.” He slid under the covers, slumping down heavily. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And… Connor?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe we could… try the ring again?”

Connor’s eyes widened, and he fumbled to remove the ring from the chain, before holding it out. “Will you ma-”

“Yes. God, yes.” Oliver kissed him deeply, allowing Connor to slide the ring home.

 

(Three months later)

 

Connor whined and stretched, prodding at the alarm clock. “Ollieeee. Make it go.”

“Come on, up and at ‘em, don’t you wanna come to this appointment?” Oliver sounded amused, and leaned in to kiss Connor’s forehead. “I’ll buy you a cookie.”

“…m’kay I’m up.” Connor sat up, allowing Oliver a brief glance at the fading lines on his arms, before reaching out to grab his fiancé’s hand and press a kiss to the knuckles, running his thumb over the ring there. “I love you so much, you know.”

“I love you too, but you better get dressed, or we’re going to be late. Again.”

“When have we ever been late?”

“Last time, when you decided we needed morning sex.” Oliver replied mildly. He looked so much better than he had three months ago that Connor couldn’t help but beam, allowing himself a moment to be sappy.

“Oh yeah, I remember that.”

Socks the kitten plodded in and meowed to be lifted, so Oliver scooped her up for a cuddle while Connor dressed quickly.

Together, they drove to the doctor’s office, where they finally received the confirmation that Oliver was officially in remission, meaning that he no longer needed treatment.

The moment they left the office, Connor pulled him into a fierce kiss, arms wrapping round his waist as they clung to one another for a few moments, just enjoying the relief that they could finally allow themselves to feel.

They walked back to the car and climbed in, linking hands for a moment while Connor sent a quick text to Michaela, who’d insisted that they update her regularly - Oliver was convinced it was because she was worried for Connor, but Connor insisted it was because Oliver was her friend.

That done, they headed home for some well-earned time relaxing - probably the last Connor would have for a while, as he’d have to return to work now that Oliver wasn’t sick. They curled together on the bed, with no pressure to turn it into anything more than cuddling, utterly content to just lay together, Connor slowly carding his fingers through Oliver’s hair, a coping mechanism he’d developed since Oliver came home from the hospital, as a way to reassure himself that his fiancé was slowly recovering and the threat of losing him was not quite so urgent.

Oliver, in turn, stroked over the scars on the pale insides of Connor’s wrists, pressing soft kisses to them, watching Connor wriggle, ticklish, before picking up the sharpie they kept by the bed to doodle the date and the words ‘yours forever’ across the width of his wrist.

“I was thinking about getting that tattooed.” Connor mumbled, eyes half closed, and Oliver pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, amused.

“Perhaps when you’re more awake?”

“Well, obviously. But like… I think I want to.”

“So… we’re forever?” Oliver asked softly, and Connor opened his eyes properly to look at him, smiling softly as he replied.

“Of course we are, Ollie.”


End file.
